


Split Second Decisions

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nat and Clint enjoy training with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Split Second Decisions

Clint was glad every day that, while he’d been sent to kill her, he decided to bring Natasha in from the cold. She was too young, too brainwashed, and it had taken weeks to get her to talk to anyone other than him and Coulson. That was part of why he was protective of her. She was like a little sister he’d have her six no matter what. There had always been something in her eye that begged to be saved, at least as long as he’d known her. Beyond that, though, she had this insatiable need to win no matter what the cost. 

Right now he was watching her destroy a bunch of cadets in the middle of the hellicarrier’s deck. They were in the middle of the Indian Ocean so it was warm and breezy. She’d tied her hair up at the nape of her neck and was wearing her tactical suit pants with a red men’s tank top. Clint watched her use her thighs to choke a dude out and smiled. He could watch her do that all day long and Clint suspected that if they advertised, Natasha would have a line around the block. He was up in his nest, watching the deck with boffer arrows meant only to leave a bruise. He was just up there to annoy people, mostly, but it afforded him a really interesting view. 

She waved in three guys, all of which were at least twice her size. Natasha shook her arms out and jumped up and down a few times before she started. With nothing but a scarf she’d been wearing around her wrist as a brace, she did the guys in in less than five minutes, two by choking them out. Clint sighed in deep appreciation of that particular skill. When most of them were gone and she was looking a little weary, Clint slid down the rope and hit the deck where she was standing. “Water?” She tossed him a bottle and Clint nodded in thanks. He took it down in a couple of big gulps before crumpling it and tossing it in the garbage. 

“How many did you finish off today?” 

“You should know. You were watching me,” Natasha said with a tiny nod to where he’d been watching her from. 

“Eighteen,” Clint told her with a little smirk. “Nineteen if you count the one you let go. Who was that?” 

“Whitson,” Natasha told him. “He has a fused disk.” She pulled apart an orange, handing him half as they leaned against the wall. 

“Nice of you not to snap his neck.”

“I know, right?” She handed him little pieces of peel that he tossed into the garbage can. “Even in this breeze?”

“Even in this breeze.” Clint smirked again and began to quietly describe how he sighted a shot and how even something as unpredictable and light as an orange peel could be wielded with some precision. He noticed her wince out of the corner of his eye and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small bottle of pain killers, easy stuff meant to reduce swelling. She took the bottle, put two in her palm and took them with the last swig of water in her bottle. 

Clint pocketed the bottle and nodded to the mats. Natasha took a moment to stretch then joined him. He had his sheen of knives around his bicep and the big boy at his hip. Clint couldn’t miss the gleam of excitement in Natasha’s eyes. She loved playing chase and she was damn good at it. Today he got to be the one who went after her. The switched up, flipping a coin every morning at breakfast to see who did which. They always started on the mats, but could end up literally anywhere in or on the ship. Natasha nodded and it wasn’t a second after that that Clint was jumping over the sweeper kick she attempted. _Nice_ he thought as she sprung back, grabbing the scarf back and catching his wrist in the process. She made him have to flip to get out of the damn thing, landing at a disadvantage against the bulkhead. 

She came after him, a little too rash and he managed to flip her hard enough to take the wind out of her. She still hadn’t gotten Misha from where he sat stuffed inside Clint’s back pocket with just his small white head sticking out. She had to take it off of him, or him off of her if it was his day to run, and make it to the perch where Clint had been sitting without getting grabbed or incapacitated. The current scoreboard stood with Natasha ahead by four, but that was just because she didn’t quit. Ever. 

Hell, the times he’d won were only because he beat her to the top. Right now, though, he had to worry about Misha in his back pocket and keeping him away from her. They played for a solid twenty minutes wherever they were as often as they could. It kept both of them sharp and gave them some incentive to further their skills. After all, whomever won got to keep Misha for the night. “Better run, sweetheart.” Clint reached out for her, catching the back of her tank. Natasha twisted out from his grip easily, managing to wrench his arm in the process. Clint wasn’t nearly as willing to take an injury for a stuffed bear as she was, so he let go. 

She banked off a nearby plane and did this crazy flip, grabbing Misha and taking off at a dead run for the tower. She was planning an emergency route and Clint was on her tail. He was faster than she was, but her acrobatics were better than his. She grabbed a bar and vaulted herself up a story with Clint seconds behind her and gaining. Natasha didn’t so much as look back at him while she ran, using the scarf to catapult herself and twist through the bars. Clint loved watching her move, the way she worked every muscle in her body to achieve her goal. It was something Clint aspired to. As she reminded him, he shouldn’t get complacent in melee simply because he used a distance weapon. 

Clint reached up and grabbed for Misha, nearly catching him, but Natasha turned away the second he grabbed, making him come up with a handful of air instead of a handful of bear. The way she turned reminded him of that first night in the hospital. He brought her in malnourished and hypothermic. Add to that the drug withdrawal she went through and that first week had been pretty touch and go. The Red Room had put her on a regiment that S.H.I.E.L.D. had to figure out before they could even treat her for it. 

She’d been trying to get out for some time and had burned all her aliases because they’d been issued by the Red Room. She’d been drifting through Russia, trying to get out. Clint knew the moment he spotted her though his scope that day that she was no agent, not anymore. He only had to notice her hollowed cheeks to realize that. Clint had sat with her that whole week, unwilling to leave her alone. He had been worried for awhile that S.H.I.E.L.D. would take his absence as an opportunity to do what they’d sent him to do. 

“Quit daydreaming,” Natasha called from two levels up. “Or are you giving up?” 

Clint reached for one of his knives, tossing it at her hard. She had to dodge and missed her next jump, landing hard on the metal grate. “Better?” 

She smiled at him. “Yep.” Natasha always looked happiest when someone was trying to kill her. Well, that and when he brought her candy. She’d clearly been deprived when she was a girl, all the good things about being a kid had been stripped away and replaced with behaviors the Red Room wanted out of its girls. That had been where Misha had come in, actually. Clint and she had been coming through the hospital when he first brought her in and while they waited for intake she noticed a little stuffed bear on the nurse’s desk. Through the whole interview Natasha’s eyes stayed glued to the little bear through the tiny window in the door.

When the nurse came in to help Natasha change, she’d fought him leaving until Clint promised to wait just outside the room. He leaned over the counter at the nurse’s station while he waited, plucking the bear from the desk. It was one of those ones that was really soft and had individually articulated arms and head. Clint pulled a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to the woman sitting at the desk. “I’m taking this.” When he came back in, it was with Misha in hand. 

Clint watched Misha’s white fur flash in as Natasha vaulted herself over a railing and started to climb the vertical ladder that led to his nest. She was going to win, but Clint didn’t mind. The look of pure joy that overcame her face for just a split second after she won was always his reward. Today she pulled Misha from her pocket and set him right in the middle of Clint’s nest with a smirk. “Getting old, sweetheart?” Clint flipped her the bird as he climbed, meeting her in the nest to catch his breath. 

“Not all of us are 5’3” and a buck ten soaking wet.” Natasha rolled her eyes, something that was becoming a signature move. 

“So I guess you’re sleeping with me tonight.” Clint’s head whipped around to see that while Natasha was clearly talking to Misha, her brow was quirked and she was smirking. She liked to poke at him. 

“It’s a shame. Me and Misha were gonna share some beers and watch the game.” 

“Too bad. It’s ballet and a tea party for this little guy,” she joked, bumping him with her shoulder as she gave Misha’s middle a squeeze. “You know we need to get down, right?” Clint shrugged and reached out to pet Misha’s head. Natasha put her head on his shoulder for a few minutes and Clint wrapped his arm around her. He was one of the very few people who were allowed to touch her outside of fighting. He saw it as a privilege and whenever she got close, he never pulled away. It wasn’t dirty, she just wanted contact. 

“You ditch the ballet I’ll come join the tea party.” Natasha looked up at him, that brow still raised. 

“You just want to eat my tea cakes,” she pointed out. 

“Yeah, that. Plus you make good tea. And you have that weird brown sugar lumpy stuff.” Clint liked to pop one in his mouth and chew, something that disgusted Natasha so he did it every time. She grimaced, exactly the response he’d been going for, and Clint gave her a little push toward the ladder. “I can carry him down if you want.” She swatted his hand away, shoved Misha in her back pocket, and slid down the ladder in one go. 

“When’s the game on,” she asked as they wandered down. Neither of them were showing off, just getting down. 

“Eight.”

“Tea at seven thirty, then all three of us watch the game.” She glanced at her watch. “Do me a favor, though?” She leaned in and gave him a sniff. “Shower first. You smell like a big loser.” She smiled and darted off, Clint standing there with a stupid grin on his face. He watched her disappear inside and reflected for a moment on just how awesome his best friend was.


End file.
